


A Fine Welcome

by katling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, Introspection, M/M, Sleepy Sex, and how things change, dorian can learn, fenris isn't irrational, so can fenris, thinking about the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: This came from my prompt post over on tumblr. The prompt was: “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”
Fenris ponders how he ended up where he is. Dorian hates the cold. Together they have something precious.





	

“If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

Fenris finished pulling his tunic off and looked over with amusement at the bundle of blankets and furs on the bed where that muttered comment had come from. He hadn’t ever intended to join the Inquisition. The meeting with the Herald had been by chance when they’d both been chasing down the same group of Venatori slavers. At first he’d been wary of the gruff Vashoth warrior, his memories of the Qunari and Tal Vashoth in both Seheron and Kirkwall strong in his mind, but despite his taciturn nature, Kaaras Adaar was nothing like those hidebound warriors. Adaar was quiet and thoughtful and even funny in a very low key sort of way. When he’d offered Fenris a position in the Inquisition after the slavers had been dispatched, he’d thought for a moment then accepted.

Finding Sister Nightingale and Cullen in the Inquisition had been interesting. Meeting the inimitable Seeker who had prompted Hawke and Anders’ flight from Kirkwall even more so. Finding out _Varric_ of all people was there had been a relief and in the end, he’d settled into life as part of the Inquisition fairly comfortably. Then Corypheus had appeared. Fenris had set aside the question of precisely _how_ the ancient Magister had come back to life when he distinctly remembered inserting his sword in the creature’s chest several times, including making the killing blow, in favour of protecting the Herald and then fleeing for his life and helping others do the same. 

Somehow in the middle of that mess, as they climbed further into the mountains with the dregs of the Venatori mages right on their heels, he’d found himself fighting side by side with the Tevinter mage who had come to warn them. He’d damn near taken Pavus’ head off at first when all he’d heard was the distinct accent of a Magister instead of the words the man was saying. Thankfully for all that had gone on afterwards, Pavus had excellent reflexes and had ducked in time to avoid the blow. Fenris had recognised the man then, knew that Adaar had accepted his help. He didn’t have to be happy about it but as they fought, Pavus proved… useful. His barriers were strong and his spells had been sharp and effective. 

Fenris had very firmly ignored the fact that they fought well together, mostly because he knew why. He had been trained to fight in concert with a Magister, he knew how to blend his fighting style with the spells of a mage. It wasn’t something he liked to think about but it had been useful that night as they’d held the rear and allowed the people of Haven and the Inquisition to escape to the meagre safe haven of the Frostbacks. When the last of the Venatori had fallen to a combination of spell and sword, they’d caught up with the group and gone their separate way. Fenris would have been happy to leave it at that but somehow - and he strongly suspected Leliana’s conniving hands in it - circumstance had thrown them together time and time again. 

It had not been comfortable at first. Fenris had a mental trunk full of hatred directed at Magisters and their ilk and Dorian had the Tevinter nobility’s blindness to the cruelty of slavery. They’d sparked off and at each other and the arguments had, at times, been memorable. But they were both intelligent men and intelligent men couldn’t delude themselves for long when they were constantly in close proximity to each other. They had gone from snide, snarking insults to tentative questions and uncomfortable answers to actual real conversations. 

The sex had, predictably, come at the end of several bottles of the extremely good Antivan wine Dorian had ‘liberated’ from Josephine’s office. Fenris didn’t remember that night very well and both of them had been stiff and uncertain in the morning. And for several days afterwards until Adaar and Bull had shoved them into a room in the Herald’s Rest and told them they’d let them out when they decided to start talking. They’d held out for nearly two hours before Dorian finally couldn’t stand the silence anymore. Not that it had been easy after that. Fenris wasn’t good at talking about things like his feelings and Dorian wasn’t really any more adept but they’d managed.

And that was how he came to be here, stripping off the tunic and breeches he wore under his armour as Dorian grumped at him from their bed.

“A fine welcome,” he grunted as he tossed his clothes aside. “Besides, you don’t know what cold is until you’ve been the Emprise.”

“Why d’you think I stayed?” came the slightly muffled reply from the bed. The blankets and furs moved as Dorian stuck his head out. Fenris gave a small, fond smile that he’d deny to his dying breath at the sight of his lover’s bleary eyes, dishevelled moustache and epic bed-head.

“So that is why Solas was in such a mood,” Fenris said blandly.

Dorian smirked smugly, if also somewhat sleepily. “I view his discomfort with great joy.”

Fenris grunted and stripped off his breeches. He eyed the water jug and bowl with distaste then looked over at Dorian. “I do not wish to get into bed without washing. Could you…?”

“Yes, yes, warming water. That’s all I’m good for,” Dorian grumbled but he also waved a hand and the water in the jug started steaming abruptly.

Fenris poured it into the bowl and grabbed a cloth and started giving himself a quick thoroughly wash. “I can think of other things you’re good for.” He glanced back over his shoulder to find Dorian watching him with growing interest. He smirked. “See something you like?”

“Many things,” Dorian replied. He stretched and undulated under the blankets, one hand emerging to run through his hair. He then held out his hand. “Come to bed, Amatus.”

Fenris stilled at the Tevene endearment then went back to washing his legs. “There was a time when I would have hated you calling me that.”

Silence came from the bed as Fenris tossed aside the cloth and quickly dried himself. He looked over and saw Dorian watching him soberly. He snorted and shook his head. “In answer to the question I can see written on your face, no, Danarius never called me that. He was perverted but not _that_ perverted.”

“Good,” Dorian said with honest relief. “Now come to bed before you freeze out there.”

Fenris chuckled and sauntered over, enjoying the feel of Dorian’s gaze on his body. They’d come a long way from the time when he’d thought every admiring look Dorian gave him must be because he wished to use the power within the lyrium brands. That had lasted until Dorian had said, with a rather sick expression, that although he could feel the power in them, the idea of using them was as abhorrent to him as the thought of using blood magic but he couldn’t help but admire them aesthetically. Fenris had surprised the mage by laughing at that admission. He knew what they looked like. Danarius had an eye for beauty among his many faults and even Fenris could admit that the markings were very pleasing to the eye. These days Fenris liked that he could rivet Dorian’s attention to him with the markings. It made them less Danarius’ and more _his_.

Dorian hummed and smiled, pushing aside the blankets just enough to allow Fenris to slide into the warm cocoon he’d created. “Tease.”

“That would imply that I did not intend to follow through,” Fenris replied as he shifted into Dorian’s embrace. “Unless… you are too tired?”

“For you? Never,” Dorian murmured as he closed the remaining distance between their lips.

Fenris melted into the kiss, letting it take away the last of the chill of the Emprise and the unsettling hum of the red lyrium that was so abundant there. Dorian was warm and pliant against him as he hitched one leg over the mage’s hip. An arm snaked its way around his waist to hold him in place and they began to slowly move against each other as they continued to kiss.

“Missed you,” Dorian murmured against his lips. “You were gone so long. Hate being without you.”

Fenris closed his eyes against the warmth that bloomed in his chest at those admissions. They both delighted him and terrified him because he knew he felt the same. Had he been the same person he was five years ago, he probably would have fled from the bed and from Dorian. Now, though, he wrapped his arms around Dorian and urged him to move faster.

“Same,” he panted against Dorian’s mouth. “Feel the same.”

Neither of them had ever said the word ‘love’ beyond Dorian’s use of the word ‘Amatus’ but Fenris knew that was what was lying between them. He had some ideas why Dorian was so reluctant to say it but he knew why he was. So many good things in his life had been blighted just when he’d thought all was going well. As illogical as it was to continue thinking that, he was frightened that if he acknowledged what was between the two of them, he would immediately lose Dorian.

They continued moving against each other in their warm blanket cocoon until Fenris gave a low cry and spilled over between them. Dorian followed almost immediately, groaning out Fenris’ name. They lay there for a while, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath. 

Finally Dorian made a moue of distaste. “Sticky.”

“Fun though,” Fenris replied as he reluctantly untangled himself from Dorian and the blankets. He found a towel and cleaned himself up before returning to the bed and handing the towel to Dorian. Once the mage was done, Fenris tossed the towel aside and returned to the bed to be wrapped up in Dorian’s embrace. He settled himself comfortably then said, “I can steal the blankets now. Your feet are warm.”

He closed his eyes and slipped into sleep with Dorian soft laughter echoing in his ears.


End file.
